


Finally

by Loverontheleft



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dirty Talk, Drinking, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverontheleft/pseuds/Loverontheleft
Summary: By request: Could we just get a separate imagine or whatever, where Brendon is just super protective of the reader. she has been his best friend for so long and he doesn’t like when anyone treats her like she isn’t worth a thing. She wants to thank him for standing up for her and it just leads to some very sexual things. i even maybe during the sexual things it comes out that he has loved her since high school? i would forever be grateful Cece. 💜Brendon x readerFuck, I’m really happy with this. I really like this one. Damn.Word count: 5.1k





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

Brendon leans against the bar, facing you and making the most appalled faces. “No. No way,” he mouths over Darren’s shoulder, who is standing in between the two of you. You ignore him and focus on Darren. “Y/n,” Brendon says, getting your attention. Your head snaps up and he mouths emphatically. “Stop. Walk away.”

“So I was hoping I could take you out tomorrow night,” Darren murmurs, reaching for your hand and you blush. “And I’ve got your drink,” he says, turning to the bartender.

Brendon protests. “She’s already on my tab.”

“It’s fine, Brendon,” you tell him emphatically, giving him a look. You turn back to Darren. “Thank you. And I’d love to do something tomorrow night.” Brendon throws his hands in the air in exasperation before turning to face the bar fully and downing the rest of his beer. Darren says something Brendon can’t quite hear and you laugh, touching Darren’s arm. “He’s just sulking, don’t mind him.” And with that, Brendon walks away. You do feel a little bad; you did come here with Brendon after all, but he’s your best friend and this is your regular Friday meeting point for all of your friends, and Brendon just happened to offer to drive you. You didn’t know Darren, the new guy at your office, would be here and while you’re not exactly looking for anything, you’re not going to turn down a date with him. He’s cute and funny and generous; Brendon can get over himself. It’s been twelve years of friendship and you’ve pretty much given up on anything happening between the two of you, no matter how much you want it. Time to pursue new leads.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Darren is by your side and replacing your drink as needed; Brendon is with your other friends, sending Darren dirty looks from across the bar. “You okay?” Darren is peering in your eyes and you giggle, gripping his arm.

“Yeah. I don’t normally drink this much - Brendon usually makes sure I don’t get carried away.” Darren nods slowly, taking your empty glass as he passes you a new vodka cranberry.

“Brendon is sort of controlling, isn’t he?” Darren muses and you give him a weird look. “I just mean. He doesn’t seem to like me spending time with you and he doesn’t let you drink…and he’s still staring at us…” he trails off.

“I never thought about it that way,” you say, glancing up. Sure enough, Brendon’s eyes are on the two of you and he’s watching steadily. “This is really good,” and you gesture to the drink in your hand. If Darren heard the slight slur of your words, he doesn’t say anything, just smiles and holds out his hand to you when you exclaim, “I fucking love this song!” No one ever dances in this bar; the music is for ambience. But sure enough, Darren is leading you to an open spot on the floor and you’re faithfully following when your vision tilts and you stumble, giggling when you hit the floor.

“Okay, I think that’s my cue,” Brendon says, sweeping in seemingly from nowhere and lifting you from the floor. “Let’s get you home, Y/n.” Darren protests and you’re trying to but Brendon silences you with a look. He turns to Darren. “She’s very drunk and needs to go home. She’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I think going home is Y/n’s call to make, not yours,” Darren says casually, eyes flicking between you and Brendon. “You’re not her keeper.” Darren makes a good point, you think, and you’re about to say this but -

Brendon stiffens and his arm around your waist tightens - oh. That feels kind of good. Brendon’s possessive it would seem. You stare up at him through your vodka haze. “No, but I am her best friend. We take care of each other, and I know her far better than you do. She needs to go home. Y/n,” he says softly, turning to you. “You ready to go home?” You’re crashing hard and home sounds so good, so you nod sleepily before dropping your head on his shoulder. He has nice shoulders. You tell him this and he chuckles, shaking his head, before turning to give Darren a triumphant smirk. “She’s ready to go home.”

-||-

“Oh fuck,” you groan, and Brendon rubs your back soothingly, kneeling beside you in his bathroom. “Oh god, I’m gonna-“ you cut yourself off with a retching noise and Brendon scoops your hair back, wrapping it around his hand while the other moves in circles over your back.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. “Just let it come. You’ll feel better.” You shake your head, moaning before throwing up again and Brendon smiles to himself. This is a reversal of roles; you’re never the drunk, irresponsible one. Granted, he thinks, you don’t have to hold his hair back, but you are always leaning in the doorway, telling him encouraging things and holding a plate of saltines and a Gatorade. Speaking of which. “Y/n, I’m out of Gatorade but I have Pedialyte. Is that okay?” You nod and wipe a hand across the back of your mouth, cursing. “Don’t move,” he tells you. “Don’t try to move. Just stay here. I’m going to go grab the Pedialyte and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah?” You moan your agreement, resting your head on the porcelain. “Hang tight,” he says softly, darting to the kitchen. When he comes back, you haven’t moved. “Good job,” he says with a smile. “Now let’s get you to bed.” He leans down and wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you with ease. You slurp at the Pedialyte, grimacing at the salty fruit taste but drinking steadily anyway. You know it’ll help. “Atta girl. Keep drinking.” You suck hard at the straw in the Pedialyte and he grins. “Come on, bed.” He pauses once back in his room. “Do you have a t-shirt preference?” You shake your head, slumping over on his bed and he grabs one at random. “You gonna be able to get undressed?”

“I’m really good at getting undressed,” you mumble, setting the Pedialyte on his bedside table and Brendon laughs, shaking his head. “It’s the putting clothes on part-“

“Okay well I’m gonna go make up the couch, you yell if you need any help. Keep drinking. Don’t fall off this bed,” he warns, and you shake your head seriously.

“Stay.” He falters in the doorway and you nod. “Stay. It’s your bed.” He looks unsure and you pat the space next to you. “You always make me stay in bed with you when you get super drunk and crash at my place and in my bed,” you point out, sounding strangely sober. “Stay.” You stand on shaky legs and start pushing at your jeans. “Help me and stay,” you order.

“Thought you were good at taking your clothes off,” Brendon murmurs, shifting a little and turning his head to not look at you. “And you’re a bit bossy when you’re drunk, huh?”

“I am good. But I need help. So come help me and then get in bed.” He doesn’t move and you pout. “Bren, help me.”

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re really drunk.” He sounds defeated and he crosses the room. Standing in front of you, his eyes on yours, not looking down, he unbuttons your jeans and unzips them. “Better?” You nod and shove your jeans down. Brendon groans softly and offers you a pair of sweatpants from his dresser. You shake your head; he shrugs and crosses to the other side of the bed and kicks off his own jeans and pulls the sweatpants on. He sheds his shirt and crawls into bed, staying close to the edge.

Meanwhile, you’ve fallen into bed trying to kick your jeans off, and, finally successful, you strip your shirt off and bra before tugging on the t-shirt Brendon handed you. You bury your face in the pillow and sigh, curling into the fetal position.

“Wake me up if you need anything,” Brendon tells you, facing away from you, and you promise. A minute ticks by. Two. Three. You reach out and touch his shoulder, giggling when he flinches.

“Bren, I’m cold,” you whisper and he starts to get up to get another blanket. “Nooooo, you donhave to do that,” you say quickly, tripping over your words. “Will you just hold me?”

Brendon turns to look at you. “Are you sure you don’t want another blanket?” You shake your head and smile at him innocently. He sighs and crawls back into bed, facing you this time. He looks at you carefully, trying to prepare himself. You’re in nothing but one of his shirts and your panties. Fuck. You scoot over and he holds out an arm, letting you press yourself flush against him. “Y/n, you are so drunk,” he sighs, feeling the swell of your breasts through his shirt and your bare legs brushing against his sweatpants before you hitch a leg over his waist to press even closer. The smooth skin of your inner thigh slides against his hip and he groans inwardly, almost choking on his tongue when you subtly rub against him.

“Goodnigh’ Bren; you’re my bes’ frien’ and I love you,” you mumble, eyes closing as his arm tightens around you and he wills himself to sleep after telling you he loves you too. It’s going to be a long night.

-||-

“Ugh,” you groan, burying your face in Brendon’s chest, trying to block out the light. “Too bright.”

“I’ll tell the sun,” Brendon murmurs, fatigue evident in his voice, and you laugh. “Any other requests?”

“Bacon,” you say quickly. “Oh.” You look down and see how you’re pressed to him and you can feel that you’re not wearing a bra. Or pants. “Fuck, sorry,” you blurt, scooting away from him.

“It’s okay. I tried to sleep on the couch but…you were really drunk and wouldn’t take no for answer.” He looks as embarrassed as you feel.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat and he shakes his head. “God, did I- did I do anything stupid last night?” Knowing you, you probably tried to make out with him. Or - fuck, did you try to blow him? You can’t trust Drunk Y/n; this is partially why you’re so glad Brendon keeps you in the tipsy zone. You’d drop to your knees for him if he asked, and if you’re drunk, even if he didn’t ask. Fuck.

“Besides agreeing to go out with Darren?” You freeze. Brendon looks like he almost regrets it for a moment before he sits up and crosses his arms, defiant.

“Considering I wasn’t drunk when I agreed, I’m going to say that doesn’t count as a stupid decision.”

Brendon scoffs. “It’s the mother of all your stupid decisions last night. Letting him get you drunk and then he almost wouldn’t let me take you home. He didn’t give a shit about you or how you felt, he just wanted you there to fuck with. Y/n, you can’t go out with him.”

“Wanted me there to fuck with?” You repeat in a low voice, your head pounding. “Is it so hard to believe that he might actually, genuinely like me and want to spend time with me?” You stand on shaking legs and stalk out of the room, not even caring about your state of undress.

Brendon follows you into the living room. “He was getting you wasted! He didn’t want to spend time with you, he wanted to get you drunk and away from your friends.”

“Maybe because my friends hover and try to control me! Darren was exactly right; you try to control me!” You practically shout. Brendon’s eyes narrow and you almost feel bad for that one.

“If I was trying to control you by taking you home and making sure you were safe, I’m sorry. If I was trying to control you when I held your hair back while you threw up, I’m sorry. If I was trying to control you when I brought you Pedialyte to make sure you were hydrated, I’m so sorry. If I was trying to control you when I held you while you slept because you were cold, I’m really fucking sorry, Y/n.” He’s pissed. You protest that that isn’t what you meant but- “No? Well let’s be perfectly clear: here’s me trying to control you - I don’t want you dating him.” Oh. He’s not pissed; he’s furious.

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make or your place to voice an opinion,” you snap and Brendon laughs.

“Really? You don’t think I get to give my opinion on who you date?”

“No Brendon, I don’t think you do! You’re not my dad!” You’re yelling now. Awesome. Your head hurts. His eyes are wild and he tugs at his hair.

“You’re right, Y/n, I’m not your dad. I’m your-“ and he stops.

“You’re my what?” You challenge. “Best friend?” You laugh bitterly. That’s all he’ll ever see himself as in your life. You’ve accepted that but you don’t have to be happy about it. “Sure. My best friend. But you don’t get to decide who I date! You don’t get to make those calls! Now, if you were my-“ and you freeze. You’ve gone too far, said too much.

“If I was your - Y/n, you know I’m your- goddamnit, Y/n!” He’s pacing now, his head in his hands, and you’re actually a bit concerned.

“What? What’s wrong?” Your head is pounding and you need to lie down but you don’t see that happening any time soon. He looks up at you and the look in his eyes halts you in your tracks. Wordlessly, he crosses the room and grabs your hair, kissing you roughly. “What are you-“ you manage, before his lips are on yours again.

“Shut up,” he tells you in a hoarse voice, the hand not in your hair moving down your back. You whimper into his mouth and he nips at your lower lip. You gasp his name, wrenching your mouth away from his. He stares at you, breathing hard. “I’m your best friend but fuck, Y/n, I have loved you since freshman year. Since goddamn freshman orientation at that stupid high school, you’ve been the only woman for me.” Finally. Fucking finally. But - his voice is anguished and he meets your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucki-“

“Shut up,” you command, crushing your mouth back over his. “Just shut up.” You pull his hair hard and he grabs your waist, lifting your legs as your tongue tangles with his. “Bed?” You ask him and he nods desperately. “Bed,” you order and he moans, carrying you backwards to his bedroom.

He drops you unceremoniously on his bed and crawls over you, kissing your lips briefly before working his way down your neck. You’re squirming under him and he lays flush on top of you, holding you in place with his body weight. He groans your name, and you give his hair a sharp tug. “Shut up and kiss me,” you say softly, wrapping your legs around his waist and bucking up against him. “You’re this hard for me?”

He nods, eyes closed and face flushed as his lips move over yours. Once your hips move, he takes it as permission for him to move too, and he’s grinding into you roughly, moaning and gasping against your lips. His hand in your hair is tugging steadily while his other is squeezing your ass, kneading the flesh there, making you rub back against him. “So fucking hard for you,” Brendon groans in your ear and you whimper. “Y/n, I gotta- can I touch myself? I’m sorry - I just - I’ve wanted this for so long and - fuck, you were on me last night; I need to get off, holy fuck.”

“I mean,” you pant, your head resting in his hand against the pillow, “you could touch yourself but it’ll make me blowing you kind of hard.” He pales and you grin, pushing on his shoulder to get him flat on his back. “I can blow you, can’t I, Bren?” You pause to evaluate. Nope, you’re sober. Hungover, but sober. This isn’t Drunk Y/n trying to get some dick. This is you and Brendon, finally. Finally.

“Jesus,” he groans, eyes closing as you curl up between his legs and yank his sweatpants down. “Oh god,” he gasps when you give the tip of his cock a soft kiss before licking over your palm sloppily and wrapping your hand around him. You give him a few short strokes and slide him into your mouth, suckling at the tip. “Y/n,” he whispers, stroking your hair. “You’re so-“

“You taste good,” you tell him, kissing over his thighs and lower stomach, dragging your tongue along the defined V you’ve always tried to ignore but usually failed. “I knew you’d taste good.” He groans helplessly and bucks into your hand, whispering sweet things. “I wanna suck your cock until you come in my mouth,” you tell him, and his eyes flutter closed. “You’ve got such a nice cock, Brendon. Perfect length, and so nice and thick - fuck, you’re gonna feel so good when my lips are stretched around your thick cock while I suck you off.” You keep stroking him before licking up his length and taking the head in your mouth again, licking eagerly at the slit to collect his pre-cum. “I should warn you,” you gasp. “I’m greedy. I want all of your cock in my mouth and all of your cum shooting down my throat. I don’t like being called a cock or cumslut, but…” you shrug helplessly with a rueful grin. “If the dick fits. And I’m gonna make yours fit. I might gag a little; you’re thick, Bren, but I’m gonna suck every inch of your cock and swallow every drop of your cum. I’ve wanted this for too long to not.” Brendon groans and promises he would never call you either name and fists your hair, not forcing you down but just holding on for dear life. You grin to yourself and slide your lips down his cock, moaning because you know it’ll feel good for him, but also because fuck, his cock in your mouth is so nice. He really is the perfect length and he’s thick, making his weight on your tongue so pleasant as your lips stretch around him. His taste, slightly bitter and salty, is actually probably helping your hangover. It’s like Pedialyte, but sexy, and you laugh to yourself as you suckle longingly. He grunts when you moan around him again and his hand is curling in your hair. You pull back and then take him deeper, gagging a little before adjusting. The tightening of your throat when you gagged must have felt good, because he’s fighting hard to not buck into your mouth. You let his cock fall from your mouth and you scramble off of the bed, kneeling beside the edge. “Come here,” you beckon, and he shifts, feet settling on the floor. “Fuck my mouth,” you tell him, hands sliding over his thighs. “I know you want to. Fuck my mouth with that great cock of yours.” He groans and you stroke him tenderly, sliding him back between your lips. He’s reluctant and you close your eyes, digging your nails into his thighs as you start rocking your head back and forth, relaxing your throat so as he hits the back of your throat, you don’t gag and the tip of his cock slips down.

“Holy fuck,” Brendon moans, hands curling in your hair as his hips start to move in short thrusts. “Y/n, baby, your mouth, your hot, wet mouth-“ he picks up speed and you let one of your hands slip down between your legs to rub at your clit. “Gonna come,” he whispers helplessly after what feels like no time at all, biting his lip briefly. “Gonna come- oh fuck- now - now - fuck!” And he comes, warm and salty, down your throat. There’s so much of it and you’re swallowing hard to keep up with him and he’s moaning and fucking your mouth through his climax, watching in amazement as his slick cock slides effortlessly between your lips. You’re moaning too, loving how he’s lost control, and gripping his thighs, pressing closer, your lips at his base and nose pressed to his skin. You’re trying to focus on swallowing, not coughing, not wasting any of his cum, when his hips still and his cock slips from your mouth. “Fuck, Y/n,” he says quietly, running a hand through his hair. “You’re incredible.” You’re both breathing hard and he looks down at you, nipples visibly hard through his t-shirt, your panties dark at your core, hair wild, eyes fully dilated, and his cock twitches again. “My god, you are something else entirely,” he mumbles, falling back on the bed. “Come up here.” You scramble up on the bed and you straddle him, gasping in pleasure as his cock presses against your center through your soaked panties. “All the way,” he urges softly. “Gotta get hard again. Need to get you off. I know a way to do both.” You cock your head, curious, hopeful, and he smiles. “Come sit on my face, Y/n.” Fucking finally. You’ve gotten off to those very words, coming from him in your imagination, too many times to count. But now, it won’t be your fingers rubbing your clit. It’ll be him. Finally.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, crawling up over him and settling on your knees above him. “Let me take these off,” you murmur, standing on his bed a bit unsteadily as you shove your panties down your legs and kick them off the bed. “You know we’ve got to talk about this - about us, right?” You ask, dropping back to your knees as his hands grab your ass.

“We do. But right now, my mouth has a more important job,” he counters, licking over you and smiling to himself when you let out a soft moan and settle down onto his tongue. “Ride my tongue,” he says, and it’s a bit muffled, but you do as he says, rocking back and forth, whimpering when he snakes two fingers up inside you and adjusting so his tongue is over your clit. You’re gasping and panting and you tug at your - his- shirt and get it off, hands flying to your nipples as you pinch and squeeze and roll them between your fingers.

“Fuck, Brendon,” you whine, rocking harder. He nods, tongue stiffening as he circles over your clit and his fingers inside you curl and press and rub. “Oh fuck,” you groan, hips shifting from small circles to rapid back and forth thrusts. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-now!” You yelp, and his fingers press firmly as his tongue slides back and starts catching your climax as it rolls down his fingers and hand.

He licks his lips and looks up at you with longing. “That’s right, play with your tits, let me watch you drive yourself crazy as you hump my face. Come for me again, come in my mouth, please,” Brendon practically begs, and you whimper, one hand leaving your chest so you can reach back and grasp his cock. “Shit,” Brendon grunts. “Your hand feels so good, Y/n. Feel how hard I am for you? Fuck,” he whispers helplessly. “I want you.”

“Make me come once more like this,” you beg, “and then I’ll slide back and ride you til neither of us can take it.” Brendon groans and his mouth is moving over you again, fingers thrusting rapidly and tongue lapping insistently. “Oh Christ,” you whimper. “Oh dear God in heaven; I’m gonna come from your mouth. No one has ever been able to - oh fuck, Brendon, lick my clit,” you beg, spreading your legs wider over his face and rocking back and forth. He flicks his tongue against your clit and you fall apart, bucking over his mouth and his hands encircle your waist to hold you in place while he licks you over and over again, moaning in pleasure at your taste.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, licking his lips. “Sink this pretty pussy down on my cock.” He gives your ass a sharp slap and you cry out in pleasure, crawling backwards and, reaching between your legs to grip his cock, sink down onto his length. Finally.

“Oh,” you gasp, shifting to adjust. “You feel so good.” You lean forward and kiss him longingly, moaning when you taste yourself on his slick lips. “You’re - god,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders as your hips work to accommodate him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” you whisper, kissing him again, whimpering a little. Brendon looks worried and he asks if you’re okay and his cock is throbbing inside you and you just want to ride him hard.

“I’m great,” you say with a breathless laugh. “Fuck, your cock is nice. But enough talking.” You raise your hips and sink back down on his length slowly, both of you moaning in pleasure. He grabs your hair and pulls your mouth down to his so he can kiss you roughly as your hips rock. “You’re- god, Brendon, I can feel every inch of you.”

“Yeah? Your pussy is so hot and wet and slick and tight, Y/n, I’m not gonna last long.”

“This first time,” you counter with a smile. “We’re gonna make this last.” You concentrate on the pulsing of his cock inside you and you find a good rhythm, sliding up and down gently before grinding down. His breath catches and his hands fly to your waist and you grin, pausing in your upwards movement, so just the tip of his cock is in you. “Don’t come,” you tell him breathlessly. “Don’t come.” He nods, shuddering in pleasure under you and you hold your breath to stay still. His breathing evens out and you sink back down onto him firmly. “That’s my good boy,” you murmur, and he groans, grabbing your ass. You repeat this torture several times, at one point swiveling your hips above him to move his cock in small circles as you squeeze around the tip. “Hang on for me. Don’t come. I haven’t come yet either,” you remind him, and he nods, reaching up to touch your breasts.

“So beautiful,” he sighs, and you feel his dick throb inside you. You smack his hand away lightly, grinning when he groans. “I wasn’t gonna come,” he protests and you shrug.

“Just making sure,” you say softly, grinding slowly. “We’re getting close though, I can tell. We’re both gonna need to come soon, yes?” Brendon moans his agreement, watching you roll in his lap on his cock. You’re both lost in the other when your phone rings. Brendon gropes for it on the bedside table and passes it to you. You glance at the caller ID and hand it back to him. He looks at it and grins, sliding to answer. “Brendon,” you hiss, horrified.

“Good morning Darren,” Brendon says in a rough, obviously sex-fueled voice. “How is Y/n feeling?” He repeats the question for your benefit as his hips snap up and hit your G-spot. You cry out in pleasure and Brendon, with his free hand, rubs mercilessly at your clit.

“Oh Brendon, yes,” you pant helplessly, loud enough for Darren to hear on the other end.

“She feels…tight and hot and wet and slick and fucking perfect on my cock,” Brendon says clearly into the phone. “But that’s just physically. Oh, and her mouth is phenomenal too - But if her whimpering of my name or the way she keeps kissing me is any indication, she’s feeling emotionally pretty good too.” Hell yes you are. He hangs up and drops your phone off to his side.

“That wasn’t nice,” you say with a laugh, gripping his shoulders and riding him harder. “He’s gonna call back.”

“Let him,” Brendon counters. “I’ll answer and let him hear me fuck you hard from behind. He thinks I try to control you? Let’s have him hear what happens when I’m really in control. I’ll fill you up with my thick cock and fuck you hard; I’ll pull your hair and smack your ass and finger your clit til you’re screaming my name, begging me to control you even more, begging me to let you come on my cock. Let him call back, I want him to hear us.”

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, biting at his shoulder. “God, that sounds so good.” Brendon chuckles and tugs at your hair playfully.

“Which part? Stupid Darren hearing me fuck you, or how I plan to fuck you?”

“Mostly your plan, but both, honestly,” you tell him, blushing. “Want people to know I’m yours. Want people to hear us, catch us.”

“God, Y/n,” Brendon says breathlessly, “you are mine, aren’t you?” You grin and shrug, biting your lip. “Don’t fucking tease me,” he warns with a grin and you giggle. “Okay, you asked for it.”

He lifts you off of him and flips you over with ease, crawling behind you and smacking your ass hard as he rocks into you. “Oh fuck!” You yelp and he bites your shoulder and pulls your hair. “Brendon, yes!”

“Whose are you?” His voice is low and tight and his hips are slamming into you from behind. “Say it. Say my name.”

“I’m yours,” you moan loudly, dropping your face into the pillow. He grabs your hair and tugs your head up, telling you to let him hear you. “I’m yours, I’m yours, Brendon, fuck I’m yours,” you chant, rocking back against him.

“Damn right,” he says with a short laugh. “Mine. Say my name.”

“Brendon,” you moan. “Oh god, Brendon, fuck me, fuck my pussy, I’m all yours.” You reach for your phone as he fucks you mercilessly, clicking Darren’s name on the call list and letting the phone drop next to your pillow. “I’m yours, Brendon, I’m all yours.”

He glances down, sees the call connect, and laughs appreciatively. You’re moaning and whimpering and thrusting back against him hard, gasping as his cock fills you. “Mine,” he repeats, pulling your hair.

“Yours,” you agree. “Fuck, Brendon, I’m finally yours. Fuck me good, make me come. Please make me come on your cock.” He grunts in your ear that you’re going to come, and you let out a shrill moan when his two fingers find your clit. “Yes,” you shriek, hips spasming as you come hard. “Yes, play with my clit, fuck me good Brendon!”

“You feel so good on my cock,” Brendon manages. “I’m gonna come. Can I come in you?”

“Please,” you moan, fingers tangled in his sheets as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Please, claim me, take me, come in me, come in my tight, wet pussy.” He comes with a sharp moan, hips losing their rhythm as his cock throbs and pulses inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” Brendon moans, pulling out of you and falling onto his back. You roll over, squeezing your thighs together, and burrow your face in his chest. He pulls you firmly against him and kisses the top of your head. “So you know you can’t go on a date with Darren tonight, right?” He grins at you as you each brush the other’s sweat-damp hair out of each other’s eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree, giggling.

“And why is that?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow.

You’re still giggling when you pull him in for a long kiss. “Because,” you murmur as you pull away, “my super-controlling boyfriend said so.” You grin at him and he smacks your ass. “Because I’m fucking finally yours.”

“Damn right.” His lips capture yours again and you fumble with the phone, hanging up.


End file.
